


My Body Full of Longing

by thegrumblingirl



Series: Far Away from Home [2]
Category: Midsomer Murders
Genre: Ben knows oh shit Ben knows, F/M, M/M, things the idiots do when they get a weekend away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:04:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrumblingirl/pseuds/thegrumblingirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can Barnaby and Troy make their relationship work, and can they resist temptation and settle for less than what they yearn for with each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Body Full of Longing

DCI Tom Barnaby sighed and settled deeper into the bed, feeling the heat from another body pressed against his back—DI Gavin Troy inched even closer in his sleep, and the arm he had slung around the other man's waist tightened unconsciously. It was about 3 in the morning, and the two men were lying in a cozy hotel bed in Kent.  _All hail political seminars,_  Barnaby had thought that morning as they met at the reception to check in, his own deputy, DS Ben Jones, trailing behind him. He knew the young Welsh officer had been eager to meet his other predecessor after witnessing the end of his somewhat difficult stint with DS Scott, and the two seemed to get along quite well.

After the first day of introduction courses and during a noisy dinner, Barnaby knew why he'd always hated these occasional trips around the country to advance procedures and coppers' sensibilities (though God knew those  _were_  lacking often enough). But a few concealed glances and muttered questions later, he hated this one a lot less. When everyone had gone up to their rooms and the halls were deserted, Troy had snuck across the hall to Tom's room, and hadn't quite closed the door behind him before the older man had grabbed him by his tie and pulled him into a kiss.

Now, a bout of slightly desperate love-making later, Troy had fallen asleep, but Tom was still awake. His mind wouldn't let him rest, and even as he tried to relax into his lover's warmth, he huffed silently at the thoughts he couldn't let go of. Suddenly, Gavin grumbled quietly and sat up a little to press a kiss against his ear.

"I know you're not asleep. What's the matter?"

Tom didn't know where to start. How about how they'd settled into a stalemate again—they couldn't have it all, so they tried their best not to want it. This time around, at least they were being honest with each other about their feelings, which was just about a miracle, compared to how blind they'd been for the years and years they'd worked together. They only see each other every few weeks, mostly for a quick lunch when the caseload wasn't too heavy, they phoned sometimes, but never wrote letters or emails—they did want to keep it a secret, and they knew what happened when you put things in writing. He loved two people—his wife, and his colleague, and he couldn't bear to let go of either of them. When he'd put up the photograph of him and Gavin in the living-room, Joyce had been delighted and commented that he should keep in touch with his former sergeant more closely. He'd nearly coughed up his spleen at that—she wouldn't have said that if she'd known he'd spent the night before curled up in Troy's own bed rather than the guest room. They hadn't had sex right that first night; they'd stopped when the kisses had turned a little too heated for an accidental first date. Instead, they'd stayed up talking and trying to figure out what to do. They knew they didn't want to stop. And somehow, they'd known how much the other wanted, too.

"I don't want you to leave Joyce—"

"I don't know if I can choose—"

They had spoken at the same time, then had looked at each other and Troy had laughed. "Come on," he'd said. "Time for bed. We can go on talking when we're more comfortable." Tom didn't know what he'd done to deserve this man.

Back in the present, Barnaby put a hand on Troy's arm and gently stroked it. "How does this work, Gavin? How can we not get everything we want in each other and still be happy?"

Troy nuzzled the older man's cheek with his nose and tightened his hold. "You mean, why am I not badgering you about having all of me while I have to share?"

"I don't want you to end up resenting what we have."

"I won't. I don't know why this works, Tom. We aren't like the other couples we deal with on our cases. I love you and trust you. You love both of us, why shouldn't you get everything you want?"

"I'm afraid Joyce wouldn't feel the same way."

"I know. You are torn between what you feel is your duty to your wife and the knowledge that you're still unwilling to deny your heart."

"You shouldn't be this smart at 3 in the morning."

"If I met a girl tomorrow and decided to marry her, would you let me? Would you break up with me?"

"Yes to the first—only if you asked me to do that to the second."

"I don't think I could."

"Me neither."

"You get to live your dream."

"Shouldn't our dreams end where other people's happiness is being violated?"

"Does Joyce suspect something?"

"No."

"Does anyone else?"

"I think Jones has got an inkling, you know. Remember when we met half-way for lunch when I was supposed to be working on old case files? He covered for me when Joyce called unexpectedly. And when we accidentally switched ties? He pointed it out to me, but didn't ask or sneer. It would be easier to believe if he were judging me, but he just does the things he does. If he does know… he's good friends with Cully, I don't want him to have to choose between his loyalties."

"Perhaps he thinks that whoever it is must be damn special for you to do this."

Tom rolled over to tackle the younger man into the mattress, Troy laughed, and in the moonlight filtering in through the curtains, Tom could see the cheeky grin on his lover's face.

"My point was—" Troy gasped as Barnaby pinned the hands he'd raised for emphasis into the pillow beside his head, "—that Joyce's happiness isn't being violated. You love us both, and as long as you don't wake up one morning and find that you love one more than the other and can't go on…"

"What if I do?"

"Then I hope you'll tell me."

"What if it's you?"

"Don't. I'm being selfish and selfless all at once by being in this relationship. Don't put me into overload—and don't tempt me."

"I catch myself thinking about leaving her much more often than asking myself if I could bear ending this." He emphasized by rolling his hips into Troy's, who bucked upwards to meet him.

"That's because she's the safe option. It's the little adventurer in you talking." He rubbed himself against Tom rhythmically now, and both felt their arousal sky-rocketing. Barnaby pressed back, and Troy's next few breaths came out panting as tried to bite back a moan. Tom knew what that meant—the conversation wasn't over yet.

"Hmm, cheeky."

Troy chuckled breathlessly, "Oh, yes!" He used his hips as leverage to loosen Tom's hold on his wrists, slung his arms around the older man's back, and then rolled them over in one fluid motion. Tom pressed up into him and stifled a groan. "Show-off, too. Disarming lessons, Troy?"

"Now, who's cheeky?" Gavin swooped down to lightly kiss Tom's nose, and grinned. "Anyway: your marriage, as far as I can tell, isn't suffering; we're all happy, even if only the two of us know why, exactly; and even your sergeant approves in his own, small way."

"It just scares me sometimes how little guilt I really feel."

Troy leaned down and kissed him soundly before answering, "You've been waiting and denying yourself for years. Have a little mercy on that conscience of yours." Tom pulled Troy down to him and kissed him back, growling, "Not anymore," against his lips.

* * *

The next morning, both were suitably knackered—Troy had snuck back into his own room down the hall at half past five—at breakfast with Sergeant Jones, but they were good at masking it. What they might not be good at masking were the lingering glances in lieu of touches. Gavin was glad that Tom had left the hickey just below the line of his collar; and while Jones was off getting more coffee, he swiftly pointed at his neck and mouthed, "Reckless!" to Tom, who responded with an innocent look that wouldn't have fooled a goat. Sergeant Jones was definitely no goat, because he kept observing the looks that were passing between the two other men while the three of them talked about that was on the seminar schedule, the accommodations, or latest cases. He seemed amused rather than disapproving, so Troy watched him watching them without too much apprehension. At some point, Barnaby excused himself, and Jones seemed to debate something in his mind. Troy waited.

"I hope this isn't going to be a train wreck," Jones said casually, if a little abruptly, only his eyes giving any indication that he meant something far more serious than this seminar going to the dogs. When the DS didn't clarify further, Troy took another sip of coffee and replied, "I'm sure it won't," just as casually, but looking Jones straight in the eye to show that he'd gotten the message. Jones nodded and went back to his toast just as Barnaby made his way back to their table.

After breakfast, they moved towards the conference room of the hotel for another lesson on political correctness. While they were concealed in the crowd, Troy let his cuffs brush Barnaby's and bent down slightly to murmur into his ear. "Oh, he knows. It's all fine."

* * *

During lunch break, Jones went to the village with someone he knew from Wales, and Troy and Barnaby sat down a little way away from the lunch crowd to talk.

"What did you mean, he knows and it's all fine?"

"He didn't say so explicitly, he just gave a little glance around our table and told me he hoped this wasn't going to be a train wreck. He might've meant the seminar for anyone who was listening, but I don't think he did. The stare he gave me was a little too serious."

"Do you think it's going to be a problem? I have to work with him, and I don't want him to transfer."

"I think he just doesn't want anyone to get hurt."

* * *

For Detective Sergeant Ben Jones, things had started to take shape when he'd found himself covering for his DCI as he wasn't where he was supposed to be. He had told Jones that he was meeting Inspector Troy for lunch, who was back near Midsomer for a family visit—but he had evidently not told his wife. Then, he had reappeared at a crime scene with a different tie from the one he'd worn in the morning—a decidedly more adventurous one, fashion-wise, than the ones he usually wore; and again Jones had pointed it out to him in the same way he'd told him that his wife had called the station, and that Jones had told her he'd been called to the coroner. Barnaby had looked at him with a bit of trepidation, had then thanked him, and told him a quick story about Troy helping him pick out a birthday present for Joyce. Jones had nodded and then filed away the faint whiff of a cologne that wasn't his boss' away for future reference. On the day of the tie incident, Barnaby had taken off the strange neckwear in the sweltering mid-July heat of the office and had accidentally left it on his desk. Jones had stayed a while longer and as he put his report on Barnaby's desk, he may have bent down a little further than necessary, towards the tie—and smelt the same cologne as the other day.

Curiosity piqued, he'd even gone down to the lab to look through the collection of photographs of their teams working crime scenes that Amy took everywhere—Jones even saw himself, Barnaby, and Dr Bullard standing over a body, all looking slightly queasy—until he found a few with Troy and the forensics team. Sure enough, there was the adventurous tie—that was why it looked a bit familiar.

While his Welsh friend ordered lunch for the two of them, Jones thought back to his last visit at the Barnabys' the week before. He had found himself paying more attention than usual to the way Barnaby behaved towards his wife; and had noted the affectionate way he looked at her that never wavered, not even when she asked him how Troy was doing. The flash of surprise on his face hadn't been due to guilt, though, just a quiet excitement jumping at the chance to talk about his friend—lover? He wasn't overcompensating to his wife when he complimented her dress or helped her in the kitchen, Jones could see that. He had startled slightly and asked himself if he had found someone who could love two people and not break apart? And could Troy really be that accepting?

Now that he had seen the two together, he was almost sure that the answer to both questions was, yes, they could. Jones didn't understand it, didn't think he himself would be capable of such a relationship—but somehow, he couldn't help but accept it. He didn't want to consider what it would do to Joyce and Cully if this got out, and he could feel the guilt nagging at him to tell them. But he had seen Barnaby at home, he wasn't a liar and a cheat. Alright, a cheat maybe, but if wedding vows had always been cast in iron, Jones himself wouldn't have been born. He couldn't condemn his own parents for falling in love with someone else while they were already married to other people, and now he found he couldn't condemn his boss, either. He wasn't doing this for kicks, neither was DI Troy. So he'd expressed himself as cryptically, but clearly, as he could to the Inspector while Barnaby had been absent from the breakfast table, and he had the feeling that Troy had understood.

Jones remembered the conversation he'd had with Joyce in the family living-room the other night—he'd discovered a framed photograph of Troy and Barnaby at a crime scene, and Joyce had seen him staring.

"Amy took it, Tom told me. He brought it back with him after that case he had to go to Middlesbrough for, apparently Amy had given it to Troy and he'd forgotten about it until he left after being promoted. He didn't know if Tom would want a print, so he just kept it as a souvenir, the silly boy. Since then, the two have been talking more again. He didn't say it, but I know Tom missed him. Not because of you, Ben, he thinks you're a fine sergeant, and he likes you. It's just that Gavin was his first deputy after coming here, and they had a great relationship from the start. Much like you two, really, but the difference was that he could pick you. Gavin was…"

"Fate?" Jones prompted gently.

"Yes, you could say that. Anyway, that case they had to solve brought them back together again, and I'm glad."

Jones pondered the irony of that statement as the food arrived. He'd been surprised that she didn't seem to suspect anything—then again, she didn't have any reason to. His mind came up with a cynical quip about exclusive rights at that, but he decided to ignore it. It wasn't his place, and although he'd unwittingly made himself an accomplice to adultery, he couldn't help but smile inwardly at the looks full of longing he had seen flying across the table that morning.

* * *

Barnaby took another bite off his sandwich before asking, "Cully and Simon set a date, by the way. Will you come?"

Troy felt overjoyed that Cully had apparently indeed found the man to marry, but the second part had him frown. "I don't know if that's a good idea. It's one thing to talk about it, but I don't know if I can meet your family life in person. I'm not afraid I'm going to do something stupid, but if I hit a bad day, I don't want to sit there with a surly face. I might at least want a dance with you at the reception, though!" Troy grinned, and Tom thumped him in the shoulder.

"You can have that. Just please consider. I'm sure Cully and Joyce would be very happy to see you, and I… I'll need you. I'm sorry, that came out wrong, I shouldn't be asking so much of you."

Troy shushed him quietly. "I promise to think about it."

A few months later, he stood next to the aisle as Barnaby guided his only daughter into her husband-to-be's waiting arms, and mouthed, "Gorgeous," as his lover's eyes met his—and only the two of them knew that he didn't mean the bride.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing, I get nothing. Title inspired by Heather Nova's 'Truth and Bone.'
> 
> Repost from ff.net.


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